The Inner Musings of the Hogwarts Gang
by StarkidDreamer
Summary: This is the inner thoughts of our lovely Harry Potter cast on the Hogwarts Express going back to Hogwarts after the final Battle for their last year at Hogwarts. Just something short. My first attempt at a HP FF so please Criticize away. R & R.


Well, someone was getting fired. Really, it was all their fault. For one thing, Darcy Anne Lewis should have been followed. It was SHIELD Protocol. She should have had SOMEONE watching her. The Agent watching Dr. Foster should have noted when her assistant went out for a Coffee run. She waved her purple painted fingers at Dr. Foster with a sluggish grunt. "Coffee now. Be back in ten." she'd called then flitted off out the front door. Ever since the incident that took place in Puente Antiguo a few weeks ago SHIELD had taken a… special interest in Dr. Foster.

It was the good Doctor who noticed Darcy, after forty five minutes, had yet to return with her usually Caramel Macchiato and a Grande black coffee for Jane. Darcy did have a sweet tooth and tended for the sweet coffee's. Jane, excited, had turned to tell Darcy about what she'd just found and realized that, after all that time, she was actually alone. Really alone. (Save for the Agent watching from a distance of course.) Jane's face faded from a bright smile to a deep frown as she looked around. Darcy was always around. Somewhere.

Usually at this time she'd point to the, now cold, coffee with a long painted finger while playing Angry Birds with her free hand. Her eyes would slide up and she'd quirk a smile at the Scientist before allowing her another hour or two of work before dragging her, most likely shower needing, butt to bed. She wasn't there. She wasn't swearing at the "Little Boomerang Bastard" for not turning the right way or kicking her feet out as her destroyed Chucks smacked into the machine to her left that was, admittedly, actually put together with duct tape and bobby pins.

Though Flaky and, often times, Distracted Darcy was NEVER late. She took her education seriously. As seriously as someone who'd changed their Major two times could. She never disappeared like this. Especially after the events a few weeks ago. She always seemed attached to Jane's hips. Making sure she was fed and watered and well taken care of because she certainly didn't take care of herself. Especially when the prospect of Thor returning was on her mind. Jane called over the Agent.

This is where the whole situation get's really messed up. The part where, if this Agent isn't fired for being an idiot, Jane would make sure the Agent was standing too close when one of her more…rickety machines decided to give it's last hurrah. She was totally okay with horribly disfiguring this person. Totally okay with it. The main reason being that she didn't call Darcy in as missing. It took an hour, a-whole-nother hour AFTER she'd noticed Darcy gone, before she got so frustrated with this 'Jackbooted Thug.' that she simply picked up her cell phone, the one Darcy had made absolutely sure was paid for every month (Because Jane was too busy to actually pay her own bills.) and called the direct line she had to Fury.

Things started rolling after that but, again, it was another twenty minutes before anything actually happened. Now the Agent was actually starting to look to the door nervously, probably hoping Darcy would come in any minute with her lipstick smeared and that shit eating "I just got LAID!" grin on her face. She didn't. The person that did come through the door was much more terrifying. And yeah, the Agent would definitely be fired. No doubt about that now. Because Hawkeye wasn't called in for simple matters. The distraught and very tired Jane Foster scurried over to him and, true to her Jane Foster-ness, started yelling at him. She didn't seem to care that he had a nocked arrow pointed at the floor as his arms half pulled back the string on his compound bow.

He did not look impressed by the ranting and hysterical Doctor. His face remained impassive but his body was taught as he scanned the room, blue eyes narrowed as he swept the area. Satisfied, he relaxed his arm. "What happened?" he asked and Jane sputtered, realizing he hadn't heard anything she'd said. Not that any of it had to do with what had happened so much as how incompetent the Agent's were and something about an Ipod that had never actually been returned. Jane blinked and explained her concerns, detailing Darcy's punctuality. Clint looked to the Agent. "You weren't watching her?" his brow rose but his voice had grown tight.

"She's just an assistant. She doesn't know anything…" Clint cut her off with a scathing look and a raised hand. He turned, the look on his face murderous as he stalked away to actually look for Darcy, something that should have been done an hour and a half ago as soon as she was so much as five minutes late. He left behind a bewildered but seething Jane and a pathetic looking Agent Hammond. 'HAMMOND! That was the woman's name!' Jane thought superciliously. She wrang her hands together and began her pacing. Darcy had always called it the Death Pace. Whenever Jane got pacing Darcy made sure she was on some hard surface so she wouldn't destroy any rugs or the small patches of grass outside that sometimes lived through the heat.

Clint found himself on top of the Starbucks that Lewis often frequented. It had a habit of keeping open at late hours such as this, despite the small town atmosphere and the fact that most people were in bed at, he glanced at his watch, four am, in the small rebuilding town of Puente Antiguo. He couldn't call this an official OP until he was sure Lewis was actually missing. She was a college girl after all but if Doctor Foster was worried about the busty assistant that Clint had never actually met before then he would take this seriously. Especially since she'd been missing for two hours now without a call. She knew the protocol.

Clint's eyes missed nothing as he swept them over the ground over the are he could see from the top of the coffee shop. Even so he almost missed it. Almost. They didn't call him Hawkeye because he had a thing for bird puns. That was for sure. The small black cartridge lay on the sidewalk about two blocks away between the shop and Doctor Fosters lab. 'If it could actually be called a lab.' Clint thought as he made his way down the side of the building. He dropped down next to the cartridge as he neared it, eyes narrowing. It wasn't just some average black thing. It was a taser. Probably dropped in a struggle.

He snapped up at the sound of a soft groan, body half turning down into the alley. Okay so it wasn't exactly an alley so much as a small street between two buildings big enough for a bike and an industrial garbage bin and not much else. He paused, assessing the possible threat before the noise came again. It was feminine and pained. He rushed forward bow raised as he did so, adrenalin pumping.

He spotted her on the ground first but kept his head up as he looked around, trying to find a threat, any threat, arrow nocked and ready. He could already feel the muscles in his arm hot and ready to uncoil and loose the arrow into the threats throat. When he realized there was no threat he finally took the moment to actually look down and examine the brunette girl in a crumpled mass on the floor. Her clothes were a little rumpled but in tact. Her knees were pulled to her chest but one leg splayed out to the side, folded down the relieve pressure against her side. Her side that was bleeding.

Her hand was covered in the dark stuff, most likely from pressing her hands to the wound firmly for as long as she could before she'd gotten to this state. She was pale, though he knew she was usually pale to some extent. He'd seen her before, heard her voice, knew a bit about her, of course she didn't know that. He was trained not to be seen. He crouched down and she jerked, eyes flying open. Her red lips quirked up into a half smile as her eyes, pale in the moonlight, focused on his mirrored blue eyes. "Took you long enough." she said thickly, a tinge of sarcasm to her tone. It was mostly lost by the rasp in her voice and how quiet her usually boisterous voice could be.

He didn't bother asking what had happened. There was time for that later. Of course it was probably better to assess now but not when the puddle of red under her was at least a liter. Maybe two. He hooked his bow over his shoulder and bent, scooping her up then turning to jog back to the lab. Darcy's eyes had closed and she remained quiet as his boots pounded rhythmically over the newly poured concrete. She felt his foot lift and heard a cracking noise before she was jolted forward. Then she heard voices, at first angry then scared, worry tinging in the tone.

Darcy eventually woke up. She was laying flat on some relatively soft surface that felt like that shitty futon her sophomore year roommate had called the "Love Couch." It had been utilized accordingly. She let out a grumpy sigh and opened her eyes to a dim room. She wouldn't call it a hospital so much as a warehouse converted into a hospital. "You got mugged." She heard Jane's annoyed voice before she spotted the scientist. "In Puente Antiguo. Mugged, Darcy?" Darcy's head turned and she made a face.

"I'm pathetic. I get it. He got my Taser." She actually seemed more annoyed at the loss of Sparksy-McGee then anything else. Jane gave her a disapproving look that was broken by a grin forming over Jane's lips. "So I take it I wont be a veggie? All hail Sparksy then." she seemed rather proud of herself, to be honest.

"I wouldn't sound so proud, Lewis." that voice said. It was really all she had of the bow toting guy who'd eventually come for her. She hadn't gotten a good look at his face but that voice. She'd dreamed in that voice. Her head whipped to the side sending her reddish brown curls flinging to the side as she got a good look at him. "You left without an escort and nearly got yourself killed. This is not a victory."

"All right Daryl Dixon." she said with a cock to her hip. The action was actually pretty difficult considering the shock of pain it sent through her and the fact that she'd managed it while laying on the Love Couch 2. She winced and Clint rose a brow at her. "Dude spilled coffee on my favorite Ramones hoodie." she was probably referring to the blood soaked hoodie that had been burned upon arrival. He was not going to tell her that though.

"My name is Clint." he corrected her, obviously not getting the reference. Darcy smirked which was accompanied by a wince. Jane fluttered at her side. "The assailant came forward…" He said, a dark edge to his voice. "He's in custody now." Darcy rose both brows and realized she probably had a potato shaped bruise across her cheek from the kids meaty hand slamming into her face just before she'd tased him in the balls. She sighed, not wanting to even think about the cover up she'd have to use to cover it.

"I'm Darcy." she finally said with a wave of her hand. "And thanks for comping to my rescue, Clint. Can't imagine Jane made it easy. Did you make sure she was fed while I was out. She probably forgot." And just like that she'd swung back into her routine. Sort of. That's also how Darcy officially met Hawkeye. She'd look back at it later with an odd sort of fondness, thanking the dumb kid who'd mugger her. You know, secretly. She'd never actually say it out loud but he'd changed her life for the better. Things were looking up now.


End file.
